Paley McWhiteass…

Star Valley is such on the cutting edge of fashion and body consciousness. The weather only has to hover at 60 degrees for a couple of days and we start shedding our clothes and morality like Paris Hilton in front of a video camera. And what better way to display these new feelings of flesh-freedom than at the local grocery store.

I’m bringing an iron to work with me from now on. If I see another set of crinkled breasts, that have spent most of their winter months in the desert West’s sun, I’ll press them puppies smooth. Ladies if your décolletage reveals skin that more closely resembles the latest leather purse designs of Dolce & Gabbana, get thee to a dermatologist IMMEDIATELY! Practicing my limited knowledge of skin cancer at a glance while scanning your rutabagas isn’t kosher.

Guys…for the love of god take off the fucking black socks with your summer sandals. Please dude, my gay eyes just can’t take it any more.

Ladies…I loves ya, I really do. But for christ’sakes please stop wearing petal pushers if you’ve got junk in your trunk. Putting a pencil fine point on your Tweety bird ankles just ain’t right. If you can’t tell what’s a good look honeys, you don’t have any gay friends. Run, don’t walk to your nearest gay bar and yell, “HAAAAAaaaayyyy!” Trust me you’ll thank me for it later. We will work our magic for you.

I won’t harangue on how bad the sun is for you, but if you do go to the trouble to fake and bake, DO YOUR FEET BIOTCH!!! A friend of mine was in the checkout line and looked damn good. Then I gave her nut brown body the once over…ending at her underbelly white feet! I said, “sweetness you’re looking fine ‘cept your toes girl.” She was shocked that I’d noticed that there was a border war brewing around her sandal straps. Hey, these are powers I’m bestowed with, sometimes there’s a fashion body count.

Sure…I’ve herd of an embargo

Sheeple.  Americans are the biggest damn sheep. Disaster-diddling, misery motivated, herd horders of all time. No wonder religion finds it’s home on our shores so readily. Now we’re frightened of a food shortage.

I read on the interswebsnet that Sam Club and WalMart are limiting the amount of rice that a customer can buy. I thought to myself that this surely won’t affect how people shop here in lovely, bitter-assed-cold Star Valley. Lo and behold the rice in our store started flying off the shelves. Mind you these sheeple don’t know the first thing about eating rice, since it’s been collecting dust for months now save for a few of us who have a rice cooker. Even the slightest whisper of food being rationed makes the Borg collective move like white on …well… rice.

Oh the world is going to hell in a hand basket and fuel is creeping over $4’s a gallon yet all is well with a 20 pound bag of rice nestled next to my Hostess twinkies and my 40 sodium rich-nutrition free $1 sale frozen pizzas. Bitch!!! when was the last time you ate fucking rice? Risotto even? Yeah well kiss my Democratic ass you bloody bush supporters, eat your fattened pets or better yet your mindless-Britney Spears wanabe kids.

The rest of us are starving and you’re just about ready for the sausage factory.

Let’s end on a high note

Hurry get his gun!

One less NRA member…

Charlton Heston

dead at 84

Uh…buh bye now.

Hell of a body in a loin cloth though.

A closer look

I really do have a sickness. Everything to me has it’s own language and speaks it’s humor in subtle messages to my rotting brain. A new job at a grocery store is just fodder for my filthy mind. I just had to share.

In the feminine hygiene section of the store, located near the dairy coolers for you hot-flash-afflicted gals, there’s a small hook for hanging small product that would otherwise not be seen. On this particular rack, nestled between the light and heavy flow days, are tingling and cooling lubricants as well as magnifying glasses. Now I’m not talking about little magnifying glass that one would use to put and screw in the temple of your prescription glasses, we’re talking about big-assed-Sherlock-Holmes-crime-fighting magnifying glass.

Who the hell took it upon themselves to hang together these two incongruous shopping cart goodies? Lubricant and a gigantic magnifying glass. Maybe these mormon women have issues with not know where their vajayjays are and need the magnifying glass to apply the lubricant. AND it’s warming [read set your cooch on fire] and tingling [lay back and look at the ceiling 'numbing' cooch cold] varieties. Or is the magnifying glass to apply the lube to there hubby’s tiny gherkin? His Vienna sausage, his teeny weenie, his micro mini penis.

I just couldn’t stop laughing inside feeling that whoever had stocked the shelves was sending a secret message to these uptight mormon travelers into sexual deviancy.

So…?

 

Mr. cheney you are a fucking bastard. With all your money, influence and shady ‘back door’ dealings; you are by far the most reprehensible son of a bitch in politics. A festering boil on the neck of this once great country. With a constant finger on the pulse of the polls with a carefree air of doesn’t-gives-a-rat’s-ass.

Cheney told ABC News’ Martha Raddatz when asked, “recent polls show that two thirds of Americans find the fight in Iraq not worth it”, cheney replied, “So.”

“You don’t care what the American people think?” Raddatz asked the vice president.

“You can’t be blown off course by polls,” said Cheney.So?!?

I  would think that the families and friends of the men and women who are fighting this abortion of a war in Iraq have a little more invested than you. Of course you wouldn’t send your dyke daughter to war as long as she’s crapping out grandkids. You should be out on battlefield riding in ill-armored Humvee through the streets of Baghdad in harm’s way as much as those you care so little of their opinion. Funny that the biggest war hawks are the biggest cowards, the biggest braggarts at other’s expense while sitting in marble floored offices with coffee service.

I used to think that I hated george bush more than you, but all that has changed. I loathe you with every fiber of my being. You’re a traitor to this country and deserve nothing more than judgment by the very people you have given so little respect to. Death is to good for you, your days are to be spent in maximum security prison solitary lock down with no toilet or lights. Fed once a day from the scraps scraped off the trays of the other ‘more fortunate’ prisoners who might someday see the light of day. Your slow, lonely demise will be used as an example to the world that we will once again learn to reign in our leaders when they use ‘christianity’ to brainwash the masses into a holy war for the sake of democracy.

Save the planet eat a child

Closing upon a month in the seas of the great unwashed masses as a grocery clerk I’m struck at the horrible child rearing skills young parents have. I hate to say this mommies and daddies but once you’ve pooped your kids out this is where ‘parenting’ begins. If your kid is screaming and having a Disneyland meltdown, don’t fucking bring them in the store oblivious to the tension you’re causing. Sure you still need to be able to get your chores done, so grow some ovaries and put the kid in the car with the windows cracked and check to see it’s in park leaving the little fucker outside to scream and kick. I had the dubious distinction of witnessing this nails-on-chalkboard moment first hand. A mother carrying her writhing, screeching pterodactyl through the shocked tomb silent store for 30-god-damned minutes! Her kid reverse head butted and heel kicked mom’s stomach and pubic bone the entire time.

For christ sakes don’t email me about what a hateful faggot I am. My mother kicked my already red, swollen and freshly spanked ass up around my shoulders when I did this in public. I soon learned what was acceptable behavior when I was out with my mom and dad.

I found myself noticing other parents in the store leaning down and pulling children close to whisper something in their ears. Probably, “If you ever behave like that with me in public I’ll lop your head off, clean out your skull and use it for an ashtray. Now, would you like an ice cream?”

 

Feel free…

Paper or plastic

I’ve been working in a grocery store for almost two weeks now. It’s close to where I live, they pay this forty year old man a decent wage by rural Wyoming standards and I love the people I work with. I see all my customers that I’ve helped in the gallery and they all have one question when they see me, “what are you doing here”?

I smile and tell them, “You know that recession we’re not having? Well, I’m not having it, so I’m working here.”

Tony’s still having people drop into the gallery and he’s been really supportive on my decision to return to work. It was quite and emotional thing for both of us. But all in all a great transition back into the ‘real’ world.

I’m sorry I haven’t written for a long time and have let my blog languish but this drama had been eating at my creativity for a while and y’all know what it’s like to have writer’s block.  I’m still here and getting happy, I’m not through yet I don’t think.

Hugs everyone,

kb

Full tilt

Two words… holy shit!